


Take it Off

by owls_and_horses



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: First Time, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Is A Bit Not Good, shirts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 15:38:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14139135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owls_and_horses/pseuds/owls_and_horses
Summary: Sherlock's experiments are getting out of hand





	Take it Off

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jessica_not_Jones](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jessica_not_Jones/gifts), [Trista_zevkia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trista_zevkia/gifts).



> For the Tumblr prompt  
> You heard me. Take. It. Off.

One of the first things John realised about living in 221B was that the madman he called his flatmate loved to experiment.

Most experiments were science related, which meant corrosive and deadly chemicals, wrongful usage of dinnerware and counters and a lot more unsavoury things.

 

At this point, John had built immunity to it. He no longer blinked at body parts in the fridge. It wasn't sanitary, body parts mixing with food, sometimes even in the same container, but John had long since stop caring about cross contamination. If he was to die from some unknown disease, he’d rise from the grave to haunt Sherlock.

He was pretty sure that whatever was in that milk he used yesterday was not just the milk he purchased from the store. Still, he used the milk. He wasn't going to drink his earl gray milk less.

 

John was also accustomed being the test subject for many of the experiments too. Baskerville was only one of the many horrifying things Sherlock did to him.

They had had that argument a few times. That argument most people didn't need to have with their flatmate. It involved a lot of reminders about personal space, that drugging persons was not good and that he really needed not to randomly burn clothing. Eventually Sherlock agreed to the rule of telling John that he was going experiment on him or his stuff. So now, John was told he was going to be poisoned. Well, at least about fifty percent of the time. When Sherlock actually remembered the rule.

Sherlock also did many experiments on himself. John had to enforce another rule that Sherlock would alert him to the fact that he was going to test a substance on himself. Because John really didn't appreciate coming home from the clinic to see Sherlock frothing on the ground.

Some of Sherlock’s experiments were more people related. He needed to see people reactions to certain events.

 Science or not, John had come to accept that there was always going to be some experiment going on in 221B.

* * *

 

Sherlock’s latest experiment stunk.

“This is a very important experiment John.” Sherlock looked unbothered by John’s bothered state.

“Really Sherlock? Do you really need to go out wearing that? It's terrible, take it off please,” John wrinkled his nose in disgust.

“Don't be ridiculous John. A man’s alibi depends on it.”

 

The shirt was black, neat white buttons running down the front and the cuffs. Nice. But that was where the niceness ended.

The shirt smelled putrid.

John wasn't sure what Sherlock did to make the shirt smell _that_ bad, he didn't think anything _could_ smelt that bad. And he spent years on decaying battlefields and running through skips. He knew a bit about bad smells.

“Okay, but-”

“Come on John!” Sherlock shouted over any protest John could come up with, “we have a case!”

* * *

 

A different shirt, same smell. Sherlock seemed completely unaffected by the smell as he walked down the streets of London. On the other hand, people gave them wide berth. John made a mental note to acquire a shirt like that for the next time he had to take the tube.

* * *

 

John was going crazy. A week. A whole week. The smell was nonstop, bombarding him even in his sleep. So he was a bit annoyed when Anderson decided to open his mouth. Not like he was wrong about the shirt smelling disgusting, but he really could have kept the other comments about Sherlock to himself. John clenched his fist and harshly brushed past the forensic scientist.

He strolled to Lestrade, trying to get some fresh air, and leaving Sherlock to examine the body.

“What gives?” Lestrade asked him as soon as he was in range.

John sighed, “An experiment. Some guy’s alibi depends on it.”

Lestrade was about to reply but Sherlock took off running, something about the idiot killer still being next door. John ran after him.

* * *

 

The high from chasing and catching the murderer dissipated as soon as the wind blew the smell of that shirt towards John. John was pissed. That shirt had no reason to offend his nose that much. He wanted to burn it, wanted to see it crumble to ash.

He slammed open the door to 221 and stomped up the seventeen steps. Sherlock looked shocked at John’s sudden change of behaviour, and climbed the steps slowly. He entered the flat looking around for John.

And there John stood, not the mild mannered doctor everyone thought he was but as Captain John Watson, his icy blue stare freezing Sherlock into place.

 

“Lock the door.”

Sherlock locked the door and shed his coat and scarf. He felt John eyes scorching his neck.

“Good. Now, that shirt. Take it off.”

“What?” Sherlock uncharacteristically asked.

“You heard me. Take. It. Off.”

Sherlock blinked. Slowly he reached for the top button off his shirt.

 

The flat was quiet but for the crackle of fire. Sherlock swallowed. He didn't even realise that John had lit the fireplace.

John eyes followed every button as Sherlock hands shakily undid it. Each button revealed a sliver more of pale skin.

The tension between them crackled. It had always been there. Neither of them ever acted on it, waiting for the other to make the first move. Waiting for this.

 

The shirt now hung open. John stalked up to Sherlock. For each step John took forward, Sherlock took one backwards. Soon his back was flushed against the door.

John smirked. He was half hard from the strip tease. He pressed himself against Sherlock his lips brushing his ear.

“I said off,” he whispered, nibbling on the earlobe.

 

He felt Sherlock twitch against him. A low keening noise came from the body against him. John pulled back to get a good look at Sherlock and almost purred at the sight.

Sherlock eyes were wide, pupils blown completely. His lips were parted slightly, and he was panting, head lolled back on the door. And that neck, long, pale, usually covered from the elements by that wretched scarf, was finally exposed to the elements, to John.

John planned to take full advantage of that fact.

He ran his lips down from the earlobe to the jaw and neck. He sucked at the skin, causing Sherlock to whine and buck against him.

“I hate those shirts,” John murmured against Sherlock's neck, “they stink. I wanted to peel it off of you every time I saw it. You looked good in it, course you did. You look good in everything. But I wanted it off. I needed it off.”

John hands moved to Sherlock’s shoulders, pushing the shirt off. Sherlock wiggled closer trying to get some friction.

John pressed back, grinding against him. Both groan at the movement of John’s hips. John deft fingers unzipped both trousers with minimum resistance. The trousers slipped down Sherlock’s bony hips and oh! That was a surprise.

“No pants love? Not that I mind. Makes it a lot easier for me”

John winced when his fingering of Sherlock’s dick caused the man the throw his head back into the door. But he seemed unharmed so John continued, trailing his finger firmly down Sherlock’s length. Sherlock's fingers gripped his hair harshly as John made a loose fist and started to move his hand. Sherlock fell apart above him, whimpers, moans and gasps falling unchecked from his lips. He started to move his hips, trying to keep up with the pace John set. Sherlock whimpered as John nibbled his neck.

“John, John please- I-I. Jawnnn. I need to- I’m going to-”

John stops immediately, gripping to base of Sherlock’s cock to prevent him from coming. Sherlock made a ruined sound.

“You what?” John asked wickedly? “You don't need to come do you?”

“Yes John- I-”

 “Well then you probably should have been a bit more obedience, don't you think?”

John pulled away from Sherlock, ignoring the whine leaving the taller man’s mouth. He picked up the shirt, one of the many nasty smelling shirts and walked over to the fire. He needed to raid Sherlock's wardrobe tomorrow to get rid of the others.

He took one last look at the brunette, his eyes was hooded and nipples as hard as his cock. His neck, well John felt pride at the very impressive set of bruises that was going to be there tomorrow. Sherlock was definitely not wearing that scarf for the next week.  

He held the horrible shirt over the open flame for a second before dropping it. He walked to Sherlock again, leaving a lingering kiss on that cupid bow.

“Good night love,” he breathed before walking to his bedroom.

 

* * *

 

“So the shirts... were a bit not good?” Sherlock asked sipping the tea John had brought for him.

John sat in his chair and grabbed to newspaper. He glanced at the fireplace, remembering how the shirt had burnt a day ago.

“No Sherlock, not good at all.”

* * *

 

One of the first things John realised about living in 221B was that the madman he called his flatmate loved to experiment. And he had absolutely no problem with the experiments, especially if they end like this more often.

**Author's Note:**

> First time for this fandom, and smut....  
> Find me on [tumblr](https://owls-and-horses.tumblr.com/)


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